


Suitor

by littleliontree (gentledusk)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentledusk/pseuds/littleliontree
Summary: Lysandre has been leaving him gifts.
Relationships: Fleur-de-lis | Lysandre/Platane-hakase | Professor Augustine Sycamore
Kudos: 23





	Suitor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt over on my Tumblr a while ago that I never got around to crossposting, but hey. Valentine's Day is as good a day as any!

Lysandre has been leaving him gifts.

He’s always known Lysandre to be a generous man. Offering to fund his research, for one. Paying for some of his clothes and food on the rare occasions Augustine cannot protest quickly enough, for another. So gifts from his friend are not, by themselves, unusual.

What is unusual is what the gifts themselves are. Normally, Lysandre tends towards practicality–though he extols beauty almost to the point of fervency, his purchases on Augustine’s behalf are always things he can use. A new Holo Caster, to keep in touch with the world. A spot of lunch, to make up for the fact that Augustine had forgotten to eat for possibly the fourth time that week.

The gifts he’s been receiving lately are beautiful, to be sure–they are flowers, in every shape and kind. Tiger lilies, violets, daisies, daffodils…and some he can’t even name, with the number of flowers in each delivery only increasing with time.

His office is starting to look like a florist’s shop by now, with splashes of fragrant colour decorating the various vases his assistants had brought in to contain them. He’s started to let them spread the vases out around the lab as well–and he’s not sure if this is what Lysandre intended, them brightening the whole lab up rather than just Augustine’s little corner, but he thinks he wouldn’t mind. The visitors to the lab certainly don’t.

Lysandre says nothing of the gifts, though Augustine is _sure_ that his friend is the one leaving them–there is no way he had imagined the slight quirk of Lysandre’s lips when Augustine had (very theatrically) thanked his ‘kind, oh-so-mysterious benefactor’ for livening up his days.

Still, it somehow manages to surprise him when one day, he enters his office to find there are no ‘anonymous’ flowers waiting for him on his desk. Instead, his ‘mysterious’ gift-giver himself is here, face unusually solemn (even for Lysandre) as he presents Augustine with a single red rose.

“What’s the occasion?” Augustine wonders aloud, even as he reaches out to accept it.

Lysandre’s eyes narrow. The hand holding the rose out freezes, and Augustine’s hand wavers.

“I was under the impression…” Lysandre begins, slowly, “that you had accepted my suit. That you were aware of the significance of the bouquets I had sent you, as a prelude to my initiation of romantic intent.”

Augustine gapes. His hand falls, and Lysandre stares at him unblinkingly even as his own hand falls as well.

His assistants–oh, how they would laugh at him if they could see him now. The great Professor Sycamore, ‘most eligible bachelor’ in Kalos, reduced to blushing incoherency just from a single rose.

“Did you dislike my attention?” Lysandre asks, head tilted, and not for the first time Augustine thinks he looks exactly like a very large cat.

Augustine shakes his head. He doesn’t trust himself to speak right now.

“Do you object to my desire to shower a beautiful person in near equally beautiful gifts?”

“Lysandre!” Augustine protests, already feeling redness creeping up his neck. Such a cheesy, _cheesy_ line–and from anyone else, it would be ridiculous. Perhaps the worst part is that he knows Lysandre is completely sincere.

Lysandre’s mouth curves up in a smile. Augustine fervently wishes the sight of Lysandre smiling– _really_ smiling–wasn’t as enticing as it is. He stands perfectly still, pinned there under his gaze, mind whirling through a thousand thoughts a second as Lysandre turns and plucks one of the flowers from a nearby vase. He turns back, with the flower–a lilac–grasped delicately in his hand.

“I believe…that I already have my answer, do I not?” says Lysandre, stepping closer, and closer still, until Augustine’s poor heart is banging against his chest, breath caught and suspended between them as Lysandre leans in to place the lilac behind his ear. He steps back to admire his handiwork, smile growing wider like the glowing rays of sunrise, murmuring that the flower _suits him_ and then moving closer again to oh-so-casually brush Augustine’s hair away from his cheek.

Already has his answer, indeed.


End file.
